The Mortal Disguise
by Gwen-Fox
Summary: Being immortal has its perks, but what good is it when you're alone? AU. Werewolf story. No pairings as of yet.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Gorillaz characters, songs, etc.

**Note**: I'm a little new to submitting stories on this site, but if I can get this thing working, you may see more from me. Anyway, enough rambling, I do hope you enjoy this story of mine!

**The Mortal Disguise**

**~Prologue~**

_London, 1855_

The night sky was starless, allowing the large full moon to shine its pale light onto the earth below it. Cloudless and silent was this chilly, eerie night. But the unnerving tranquility was disrupted by the sounds of running feet plowing through the tall grass and shrubbery of the thick woods. The flickering light of lit torches tore through the darkness, revealing the angered faces of the men traveling in the wilderness.

A small, run-down log cabin stood in a clearing, surrounded by the tall trees of the woods. A single candlelight could be seen within its walls, a tell-tale sign of an inhabitant inside.

He sat cross-legged on the dusty wooden floor, hands in his lap and both eyes shut in a peaceful state of what appeared to be meditation. A strange pattern was drawn on the floor around him; several books littered the space nearby. A faint sound came to his ears, and his hands twitched in response, but nothing more.

The gentle breeze outside lightly shifted the trees' branches, sending a rainstorm of brownish leaves floating weightlessly to the damp ground below. It was this sound of rustling greenery that spurred the man into opening his narrowed coal black eyes. He glanced over his shoulder, emitting a soft, throaty chuckle.

"Onto me already, are they? Clever blokes." His low, but husky voice pierced the silence. With a toothy smirk, he faced ahead and closed his eyes once again. "Better get this over with then."

It was not much longer before the cabin was surrounded by the torch-wielding men, readying their guns should they need to use them. One of the braver men stepped forward, throwing his torch angrily to the ground as he pointed his gun at the cabin.

"We know you're in there! Show yourself, Hell-spawn!" The shout echoed through the trees, followed immediately by unnerving silence. For several seconds the mob waited for an answer, but received no such thing. Growing frustrated, the man blurted out again. "You choose to cower in fear? No mercy shall befall you, now! Men, storm the cabin! Light it ablaze!"

But before there was a chance of carrying out the command, the only door to the structure was blasted through, a blackened form darting out of it. The creature pinned the ringleader to the ground, his throat in its canine-like jaws. With a single, crushing bite from the creature, the man fell still.

The rest stood in shock, momentarily too stunned to aim their weapons. They watched as the monstrosity, blood dripping from its fangs, stared back with piercing red eyes.

"L… Lycanthrope!" Several shouted, at last fumbling for their guns to shoot the creature. They did not get the chance, however, as the large wolf growled deeply before letting out a thunderous howl that shattered the windows behind it.

As the noise faded, it charged forward into the crowd, killing or injuring all who stood in its way before vanishing into the woods that enclosed them. Several shots were fired, but none could be certain if they had hit their mark.

The wind suddenly picked up intensity, blowing out many of the torches the group had lit. With the remaining light they had, they reloaded their weapons. Muted growls that could easily be mistaken for grueling laughter rang through the woods, chilling the men to the bone.

"The demon. Should've known he'd pull something like this." One stated in a tone just above a whisper, holding a shaking gun to the wooded area before him, ready to fire should the wolf appear from that location.

"We can't risk moving through the woods. Killing him is our only way to ensure our safe return back home."

The task was easier said than done. With only a handful of torches, many would not see the wolf should he make an appearance. They did not have to wait long; the werewolf managed to kill off several more of the dwindling group by the cover of darkness.

They were eventually reduced to a mere seven gun-toting men, all of them frightened for their lives. They no longer cared to vanquish the beast, but to merely escape from its deadly jaws. Three or so brave men rushed into the woods, only to be greeted by the lycanthrope just out of sight. The sounds of growling and a sickening crunch were heard.

Feeling that four men was a fair match, the wolf emerged from the greenery in a slow walk. Illuminated by the dull moonlight, drying blood glistened on its black and silver fur. Its demonic red eyes appeared to glisten in some sort of sick enjoyment, its lips curled up in what appeared to be a gruesome smile.

A short battle ensued, guns firing and fangs ripping away flesh. The bullets hit their mark, but did not appear to affect him in any way. One by one, three of the remaining intruders fell dead amongst the others, leaving only the wolf and one last dark-haired man.

Man and beast stared each other down for countless minutes, as if waiting for the other to let their guard down. Acting on an unheard cue, the two began their battle. However, the quarrel lasted barely as long as the staring match they had minutes earlier.

The wolf, pinning the man down, bared his bloodstained fangs, relishing in his triumph. The loser of the fight strained to speak his final words, his tone revealing his hatred for the man behind the wolf façade.

"Murdoc… what a disappointment…" At the man's words, a bitter snarl marred the beast's furry face.

"_Then a disappointment I shall be." _

An angry roar was heard, followed by the sound of teeth meeting flesh. All was silent in the forest once again.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Yup, still don't own Gorillaz.

Chapter One

_England, present time_

This town dwelled on simplicity as well as tranquility. It was the kind of place people stopped on their long travels to fill up their tanks, a no-name place. The town itself was almost completely surrounded by forest area, the greenery too dense to maneuver through.

Not a soul wandered into the woods around the town; the people living there have always been plagued by the wolves that roamed freely inside. Men, women, and children alike have fallen victim to the beasts' attacks for as long as the town existed. All of them held a great fear for the wolves that spanned the generations.

There were a few brave souls who dared wander into the forest that the town so dearly disliked, mostly on bets or drunken night strolls. Most never remained long enough to be attacked, not until one recent incident.

The last known sighting of the man was only hours before he was found dead near his home, his body torn to shreds. From what investigators had concluded from the crime scene, the man was merely walking alone at night when a pack of animals, presumably wolves, attacked and killed him. From this horrendous accident, the mayor issued a town curfew for anyone who stayed there.

Even now, a year and a half after the incident, the curfew remains in effect today. He was most promptly informed of this as he arrived in the town, along with the story of the man's fate that spurred the curfew in the first place. It was useful information, given that he was moving into the home the man once lived in. It was located farther out of the town borders, closer to the woods.

"Not a big house, but it holds up well." He and the salesman stood in the front yard of the abandoned house, inspecting it from the outside. The salesman, much shorter than the younger man standing beside him, looked up at him with a wide grin. "So you're taking it, are you?"

The taller of the two remained silent for a moment, his dark eyes inspecting not only the house, but the woods surrounding it. He then faced the salesman with a smaller smile.

"Yeah, I like it. S'a nice place."

"Good to hear, son! The house is yours." The shorter man's face suddenly grew grave as a thought crossed his mind. He looked back up at the young man with a slight frown. "A lot of people are talking about how brave you are for purchasing this house. You can say it's been condemned."

"Oh, I don't fink I 'ave anyfin to worry 'bout. I don't really like walkin' around in wooded areas." He said softly, his smile hesitantly returning. "Not much of an outdoor person, yeah?"

"If you say so. Do be careful and enjoy your stay here, Mr. Stuart Pot." With that said, the salesman began walking to his sleek car parked at the road, leaving the other alone to think over what had been discussed. Stuart watched with his blackened eyes as the man drove speedily off, confusion building up inside him.

"Can't be that bad of a place, could it?" He asked himself before heading up to the front door, house key in hand. With a rough clanking sound from the iron lock, the old wooden door opened freely, giving Stuart access inside.

Furniture from the previous owner still remained in the house, covered in layers of dust from the long span of neglect. Stuart was relieved when discovering this, since he did not have furniture of his own.

_I don't 'ave much of anyfin, really… 'Cept wotever Dad left behind. _He thought with a light frown, making his way through the living room. Several times he has sneezed from the large amount of dust that existed in the house, but the young man was elated with his purchase.

Once moving in his single briefcase of personal items, Stuart collapsed onto the still-dusty leather armchair. He was soon reminded of such when he once again let out a loud sneeze. He sniffled and laid back in the chair.

"Could use a bit of cleanin', I s'pose…" A small laugh escaped him as he felt his eyes getting heavy, the fatigue from the trip soon overtaking him. "Maybe… I'll do it later…"

. . .

Stuart awoke to the sound of feral growling outside; he opened his eyes sleepily as he slowly registered his surroundings. His vision still blurred from sleep, he looked down at his wristwatch, reading 9:45 p.m. _That late already? _

Another set of low growls and barks snapped his attention back to the noises, looking over his shoulder toward the source.

"Wot the…?" The young man rose from his seat and went to the window nearby, peering through the dirty glass to the nightly world outside. He was shocked to find a large wolf standing just barely behind the first row of trees, its yellow-tinted eyes staring him down as its lips curled up in a fierce snarl. The sight sent shivers down his spine, his heart beginning to race.

_Nofin' like being close to the wildlife. _Stuart stated mentally before locking the window and shutting the blinds, unable to look at the wolf any longer. He then proceeded in locking the other windows, and finally the door. _Guess I shouldn't say I wozn't warned of it… but still._

The tall man ran his fingers through his spiky blue hair, a sigh escaping him as he narrowed his bruised eyes. With a dejected look in his features, Stuart reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle full of large green and white pills.

He hesitated for a moment before popping the lid open, shaking two pills out onto his free hand. He stared at the tablets for a moment, as if regretting his decision to take them. With a short sigh and a frown, Stuart opened his mouth and swallowed them dry.

He was brought out of his jumbled thoughts when an eerie howl tore through the silence. Stuart jumped in a start, taking a while to regain his composure. When recognizing the noise, he calmed and gave a light glare at the window to his right.

"Oh boy… I hope this won't 'appen every night…" The more he thought about it, the less the matter seemed to bother him. Due to the pills he takes, and how often he takes them, he most likely would not be disturbed by the howls because he would be fast asleep. Being reminded of such sent a wave of exhaustion over him.

_Bed… how dusty is the bed? _Like a zombie on the move, Stuart lumbered down the corridor to the bedroom and peered inside. He flicked on the lights, and inspected the objects located inside. It was equally as dusty as the rest of the house, but Stuart only needed to dust off the pillows and comforter for now.

With the bed relatively dust-free, the blue-haired young man sluggishly climbed into it and settled in. He was asleep in a matter of minutes.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything related to Gorillaz and its characters.

Man, how this story is old. I tried to touch it up so that it isn't _entirely _horrible. xD

Chapter Two

Cleanup began as soon as Stuart finished dressing for the day. With necessary items of cleaning already in the house, he had no trouble getting started. But not too long into the process, the young man made a very chilling discovery.

Doglike paw prints could be seen scattered throughout the house in the layers of dust, along with bare human prints as well. Had he known animals had access inside the house, Stuart would have tried to find the entry much sooner.

_Wot if it was that wolf from last night? Was 'e mad cos I'm in the 'ouse now? _He wondered as he searched for any hole or other opening big enough for a canine to get inside. He never found anything. The young man now stood baffled, scratching his head in bewilderment. _Odd… Couldn't 'ave come in frough the door, could 'e?_

Feeling that he just needed a break, Stuart decided to take a look around the town he had moved into. Since it was so small, he may meet a few buddies to talk to in the future.

_Or maybe even a… _Stuart shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He felt he did not need to think about things like that now. The shambles of his previous relationship was much too fresh in his mind to even consider another.

"Oh well… it's all in the past now…" Stuart said lightly before a sigh was heard from him, a frown making its way into his features. He got in his truck and drove off, inspecting all that the town had to offer. It had all of the basics a town should have: A grocery store, theater, gas station, clothes stores, a few restaurants, school buildings, and a bar. There did exist several other small stores here and there, but it was those buildings that stuck out the most for Stuart.

Being the hearty gentleman he was, he decided to check out the bar first. He was sure to find someone willing to talk to him there. He did keep in mind that it was only mid-afternoon, but went regardless.

As he expected, the place was not full of people. Seven or eight could be seen right away, including the bartender. What Stuart did not expect, however, was everyone present in the building glanced over at him with looks of both anger and fearfulness. Why they did so went unanswered.

The blue-haired young man soon arrived at the empty bar, sitting down with a light frown in his features as he waited for the bartender to serve him. He turned and faced him when he heard Stuart sit down.

"What you havin'?" He then asked, a brow raised as he inspected the newcomer. He was a rather large man, with the strangest solid white eyes which countered Stuart's blackened ones. The younger of the two blinked twice once realizing he had been addressed, shifting his position in his seat a little.

"Oh… Jus' a White Light, please." At the corner of his eye, Stuart saw that the other visitors before had returned to their conversations or thoughts. He furrowed his brows as he tried to decipher their behavior, unable to come up with any solid reason.

"New faces always gets them talking," the bartender suddenly spoke up, handing Stuart his drink. The young man took it and lightly sipped the liquid, paying mind to the foam that floated at the top. "Guess you're the guy who moved into Maynard's place, huh?"

He received a single nod from the blue-haired man, though never getting eye contact. With a faint smile, the bartender held out his large hand.

"Russel Hobbs. Nice to meet you."

"Stuart Pot… Uh, likewise, yeah?" He replied with a small smile of his own as he shook Russel's hand, earning the attention of the others once again. Stuart took another drink from the mug after a lengthy pause between them, continuing once the amber liquid was swallowed. "So, wot's life like 'round 'ere? Everyfin's been quiet since I moved in."

"That's about it. Quiet, uneventful, stuff like that. Maynard gettin' killed was big news here for a long time. Still is, if you ask the right people," the colored man answered as he dried a newly-cleaned glass, a scowl in his features. "Guess that's why people are a bit sore about you moving into his place." Stuart gave a confused expression, facing the bartender fully.

"Sore? I didn't do anyfing wrong by buying the 'ouse, did I?" Russel made the move to answer his question, but was cut off from doing so when the doors swung violently open. The afternoon sunlight poured into the once dimly-lit bar, catching everyone's attention.

All eyes turned to the one responsible for the disturbance, but as soon as the faint lighting in the building revealed the man's features, most turned back to their tables and fell silent. Stuart too glanced over his shoulder to get a look at the new arrival, but shrugged it off before returning to his alcoholic drink.

The crowd-silencer said not a word as he walked calmly toward the bar, quickly noticing Russel's scowl. Ignoring the obvious signs of not being welcomed, he pulled out a stool to Stuart's left and sat down. A toothy grin was easily seen on his olive-colored face.

"I'll have the usual, mate." His tone of voice was low, but firm enough to be taken seriously by anyone within earshot. His grin faded to just a simple smile when a thought crossed his mind. "Oh sorry. You want to jus' be called Russel, right?"

A thick chuckle wafted throughout the pub, drowning out even the music playing from the jukebox somewhere to the right of the building. It had come from the dark-haired man, laughing as if he knew a joke that no one else did. Russel, not impressed by the man's actions, kept his aggravated look, but proceeded in preparing his drink.

"I don't want no trouble from you, got it?"

"Clear as crystal, mate. You lot bore me anyway," the olive-skinned man replied as he scratched at his chest absently, shoving his hand underneath his dark gray sweater. As if getting a sudden prod from an unknown source, he turned to Stuart, who had just finished his beverage. He let out another chuckle. "Wot luck I have. Yer the new bloke, right?"

Several seconds passed, the question barely reaching the blue-haired man through his alcohol-induced daze. When he realized that he was being addressed, Stuart faced the other man slightly.

"Yeah, that's me. Um… Nice… meetin' ya?"

"Oh, I'm sure it isn't," the man stated as Russel placed the drink before him, bringing his attention off of Stuart and to it. "There we are. 'Preciate it, Russ."

With nothing more to say on the subject, he proceeded in downing the entire glass like a dehydrated camel. Some of the liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth and down his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. Russel shook his head with narrowed eyes, then turned to Stuart with a more lightened expression.

"You want another, Stuart?"

"Nah, just water will do now," the lanky young man replied, pushing the empty glass forward. It was hard to ignore the other man's obnoxious guzzling, but Stuart held his slowly-growing annoyance well. He heard him slam down the now empty mug on the bar, a long exhaled breath following.

"So Stuart's yer name, eh?" He signaled for Russel before he could get the water the blue-haired man had asked for. Stuart crinkled his nose a bit, smelling the alcohol on the other man's breath from where he sat. "Get me two mugs o' the strongest booze ya have. One for me, and one for my new mate Stu here."

Hearing the pub frequenter's statement, Stuart faced him with dark eyes fully open. He had not been expecting such a thing. Despite the generous offer, Stuart felt that he should turn it down.

"N-no, it's awright, sir. I'm not much of a drinker…" He was cut off when the dark-haired man suddenly wrapped an arm over his shoulders and brought him close, as if they were lifelong friends. Despite Stuart's uncertain and unnerved expression, the older male held firm.

"Rubbish! One more drink won't kill you," he replied, his grin quickly returning. Stuart was beyond uncomfortable at this point; he was thankful that Russel took notice of it.

"Leave him alone, man. Don't make me throw you out again." The bartender's tone was threatening now, the glare emphasizing his solid white eyes. Though still grinning, the man released Stuart and crossed his arms.

"Have it your way." His eyes caught sight of the clock hanging on the wall, reading 6:47. It was as if he was a different person; his expression changed from joyous to stoic in a matter of seconds. The man reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, placing them on the bar. "Well, as much as I'd love to spend time with you lot, I must be going."

"For the booze and the White Light he had. Ciao!" He added before walking briskly through the doors, sending the pub in silence once again. The patrons remained frozen in place for a few minutes, as if unsure of moving should the bold man return.

Once he was finally gone, a wave of relief came over the lanky man as he released a long sigh. Stuart could not help but feel quite baffled at the stranger's words. How could he have known he ordered a White Light? Russel also had a look of surprise, but kept his brows furrowed.

"Strange… he never buys anyone's drink but his," the colored man mused, gathering the coined currency left on the bar. After a brief pause, a short laugh escaped him. "Guess he took a shine to you. I suppose someone had to."

"Who was that guy, anyway?" Stuart inquired, a look of worry still etched on his face as he stared at the bartender. Seeing his fearful expression, Russel sighed and turned to the young man fully.

"No one… really knows. He showed up a few months before the Maynard incident, and hangs around here a lot." Stuart held his interest as the robust man explained, tilting his head slightly. After entering the till for the purchase the dark-haired man had made, Russel continued. "Everyone here just calls him the outcast, or the troublemaker. No one really bothers to ask for his name, and no one knows where he stays."

"I can't help but think I've seen 'im before…"


	4. Chapter 3

**Note:** Don't have much to say other than thanks for sticking with this old story so far! Hope you all enjoy this chapter as well.

**Disclaimer: **Gorillaz clearly does not belong to me.

**Chapter Three**

The whole ordeal with the stranger at the bar proved too much for his head to handle, thus inducing the splitting headache that plagued him. On top of his throbbing head, it was getting much too late for him to be driving around.

Stuart's eyesight was not terrible, but because of his blackened and damaged eyes, he never trusted his driving ability after dark. Knowing this, he also realized that he had to have groceries for the house, since he brought nothing to eat from his previous home. And so, there he stood waiting in the short line to check out, a basket full of fresh food to last him for a while.

A soft and quick sigh passed through his lips as he fumbled for his pill bottle, easing out three and popping them dry. He could only hope that they would not kick in on his way home.

As his turn drew near, Stuart allowed his thoughts to roam for a while. He was elated to find at least one person to talk to if he needed it, but also almost wished he had not been around when the stranger showed up. His closeness and almost familiarity toward the young man were unnerving, to say the least. _Sounds fishy to me, since Russel said the guy don't take to no one…_

"Sir? Hello…? Sir!"

Stuart snapped to attention at the clerk's calls, blinking his blackened eyes a few times to bring himself back to reality. Seeing the confused but subtly annoyed look on her powdered face, a feeling of embarrassment fell over him as he fumbled for his wallet.

"S-sorry 'bout that, Miss. 'ere you go," he said with a sheepish smile, handing over the correct amount. The clerk narrowed her green eyes at him before entering the numbers into the register, then held out the receipt and telling him 'have a nice day' in an obvious fake cheerful voice. Stuart said nothing more, taking his bags and quickly heading out of the store and into the chilly night.

Now with food to keep him satisfied for a while, the young man made his way toward his old truck parked a few spaces away. Since it was barely past eight, close to the curfew time, virtually no vehicles were present in the lot, which in turn made it easier for Stuart's bruised eyes to catch sight of where his own vehicle was.

Just as he was unloading the buggy of his purchase, the young man spotted something at the corner of his eye. Looking over at the area of interest, Stuart saw that he had seen a young woman standing a distance away from the parking lot. She did not appear to notice him watching her, as she continued to stare off at something across the empty street.

Tilting his head slightly, Stuart could not help but wonder what the woman was looking at, since all he could see was grass leading into the ever-present woods that this town knew so well. He also could not help but inspect her appearance, a simple gesture as he wondered who she could be.

Without a word, the woman suddenly turned her head to look at him, her eyes unblinking. Stuart, startled and ashamed at being caught staring, quickly resumed his task of loading up the backseat of his truck. He felt his cheeks burn red, and was glad that only a single dimmed streetlamp could reveal such.

_Crap… she's prob'ly pissed off now… Why'd I 'ave to stare like that! _He berated himself as he piled the bags in, chancing a glance back over at the place he had seen her. Surprise and confusion was seen in his features when he saw that the young woman was no longer there. He quickly scanned the area, but found no trace of her ever being there. Stuart allowed a short laugh to escape him. _Good work, Stu-Pot… getting worked up over some 'allucination from the damn pills._

Placing the final bag inside the truck, Stuart shut it and rolled the buggy over to where it can be collected by the employees later on. Taking one last look around, the young man got into his truck, started it up after some relative difficulty, and headed back home.

. . .

The house was completely silent, save for the soft ticking of a wall clock hanging just ahead of him. The sounds of cricket chirps and croaking from frogs could be heard outside, reminding Stuart on just how alone he truly was. His expression was blank, but his hands clenched and unclenched as his thoughts reeled in his head.

Mumbling incoherent words to himself, the young man grabbed his sandwich and took a bite, a glare now on his face. His eyes fell on the half-empty pill bottle sitting a short distance off to his right, his angered look fading slowly. The mere sight of the green and white tablets beckoned to Stuart, enticing him to take more.

There was long period of contemplation as the young man's conscience told him to resist, but he eventually gave in to temptation. He reached out and grabbed the bottle before fumbling with the top, his large hands shaky and anxious.

He did not get the chance to open the bottle, however, hearing the knob on the front door suddenly start jiggling rapidly. Curious but also cautious, Stuart put down the pill bottle and went to investigate. The noises ceased by the time he reached the door, but was not hindered in checking it out. The young man unlocked it and peered through the small crack he created as he opened the door.

He saw no one waiting on the steps, much to his surprise. Baffled now, Stuart opened the door farther to get a better look; there was not a trace of anyone ever being there. His thick brows furrowed in confusion, Stuart lightly scratched his head. _Tha's odd…_

Shaking his head in disbelief, Stuart retreated back inside and shut the door. He emitted an aggravated throaty groan as he walked down the short hallway leading to his room, hoping to give his mind some rest.

The hours passed, Stuart now sound asleep, the nightly world outside carried on without care. The crickets and frogs sang their chorus at full blast, filling the autumn air with the sounds of the forest. But the young man snoozing away in the small house did not hear any of it, blissfully unaware.

. . .

Morning came sooner than what Stuart would have liked, complete with a pounding headache to greet him. The young man sat up with a groan, a hand on his face as he reached over to his nightstand for his pill bottle. Sighing, he took two and placed his inky black eyes to the blinded window to his right. The dim sunlight attempted to seep through the cracks, effectively lighting Stuart's room.

"Can I just go a day…" he trailed off with yet another sigh of frustration, and reluctantly rolled out of his bed. After dressing for the upcoming day, Stuart sluggishly made his way to the kitchen for breakfast.

He never ate much; with so many food intolerances and the pills he must constantly take, it kept him extremely thin. Today, he decided to settle on just a bowl of cereal.

As he ate, Stuart took notice of how quiet the house was, the deafening silence of being alone. A frown made its way onto his face, and now stared sadly at the table before him. He had never realized how much it would really effect him, and how badly it hurt.

_I can always swing by the bar again. Maybe Russel's there to… _He shook his head lightly at that, cutting off his train of thought. He figured how much of a bother he would appear to be if he dropped by the bar a second time, thinking he would look like a friendless loser migrating from place to place. The young man brought his hands to his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he debated over what to do.

"Wot did I come 'ere for? There's nothing 'ere for me…" A wave of silence was his only reply, as expected. He thought back to where he was before he moved to this small, sleepy town, to his family, his life before. He had left without hardly any warning, never once regarding his widowed mother's pleas to stay. Stuart had left it all behind, following a call that he was no longer sure even crossed his frazzled mind in the first place.

As his depression slowly crept further into his mind, Stuart stood from his place at the table and waltzed into the small bathroom. His eyes were on the medicine cabinet almost immediately after he had shut the door behind him, closing him off from the rest of the world.

He grabbed as many bottles as he could carry in one hand before shutting the cabinet door again, making his way over to the closed toilet seat to his right. Stuart told himself that he should not be doing this, and how risky the outcome could be, but his want screamed louder than his reason.

The first lid came off easily, having enough cognition to work the childproof cap. Four round, tiny pills were shaken out and consumed. He could not remember or even pronounce the name of this particular medication, but he did recall that they were for pain relief. Pushing the thought aside, he started on the next bottle.

A faint echo of childlike laughter shot through his mind, making him pause his actions for a moment. The sound soon ebbed away, leaving Stuart to wonder if he had even heard them at all. Shrugging the matter off, he poured six red pills into his eager hand. He knew it was too much, but he was beyond caring at this point.

As he swallowed the capsules, the laughter returned. However, a mental image accompanied it this time. He saw a brief glimpse of a group of kids encircling one in the center, but could not identify any of them. The only thing that stood out to him in the vision was the center child's head of black. The image was gone before his slowly-deteriorating mind could make out any more details, leaving him confused.

"What…?" Stuart had no idea who he was trying to speak to, or why he had even spoken at all. Unable to make sense of his jumbled thoughts, he reached for another bottle.

However, his already bad vision made even blurrier from the copious amounts of medication, he misjudged the distance and knocked over the bottles. Pills and plastic now littered the cold tile floor, scattered around Stuart's bare feet. He stared down at them, his blackened eyes squinted, as if trying to make sense of what had just happened.

A loud knocking at the door managed to reach his scrambled attention, making him bring his eyes to the closed bathroom door to his right. Moving more on impulse than actual deliberation, Stuart slowly got to his feet. With swimming vision and wobbly legs, he eventually exited the bathroom and to the door.

Opening it slightly, the blue-haired young man could make out a head of black with colors of gray and blue mingled in with it. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision somewhat, but the action proved futile. So instead, he simply decided to greet his visitor and hope he did not look too out of it.


End file.
